Have I Told You About My Condition?
by Django1992
Summary: Naomi's got a problem you see. She can't remember anything for longer then ten minutes maxium. She's got a screwed up short term memory. And someone's murdered Emily. How's she going to find a killer if she can't remember him? For Skins big bang.


There's some art work for this fic here: .

Check that shizzle out! It is amazing Praise her please! :D

Now on with the fic...

"**How many more times do I have to tell you, Naomi? Leave this on!" Emily calls from the kitchen.**

"**And how many more times do I have to tell you it's shit?" Naomi calls back from the living room, legs propped up on the table, flicking the channel over.**

"**I like it, Naoms." Emily appears at the door, leaning on the frame, pouting at the peroxide blonde. "Please, for me?" **

"**Oh, fuck sake." Naomi mutters, she knows she's going to cave. "Fine! But you better sit here and watch it then." Naomi pats the space on the sofa next to her and looks at Emily expectantly. Emily walks over and sits in the space, leaning in to the comfort of Naomi's touch. **

"**Thanks, babe." **

"**I love you."**

"**I love you, too, Emily..."**

It's a room, just an ordinary room, you don't know where it is or how long you've been there but you're here. You look around, some cheap hotel, bed, draws, TV on a small desk, bathroom, nothing unusual. You press your hand against your forehead and try to remember like you do every time this happens, you can't though. It's not your fault, it's a medical condition. Ever since the incident you can't make new memories, you're not completely fucked though you still have your old ones, still know who you are, just can't remember the now. You shift all your weight and push up off the bed, take another glance around the room before going through things, you check the draws, nothing there, the wardrobe, just clothes, the bathroom; typical bathroom things. Nothing. "Fuck." You mutter and sigh.

You slowly walk over to the large mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door and through your top over your head, standing in your bra, looking at your reflection. The black ink mares your sink, taints it permanently, your fingers gently run over your old ones, the ones you can tell have been there for a while because they're faded a bit. "Find him and kill him." You read aloud as your finger runs over the one over your chest. Your hand moves down and moves over the next one. "John _ raped and killed my wife." And finally your hand trails down to the most recent one. "Don't trust anyone." You've obviously recently had a run in with someone that you can't trust but unfortunately can't remember it. You try to, but it's just not there. You're hand reaches into your bag that you carry on your back and you pull out some pictures, you flick through them. Hillside motel, must be where you're staying. Cook; don't know what to make of him. That's what's scribbled on the back of the picture of the boisterous boy. You flick to the next one; Effy, she'll help you to her own end. Don't trust her too much. You try the other pouch on the bag and pull out a couple of pieces of paper, scan them and then drop the others when you find the newest one, you can tell from the ink, when you can't remember anything you learn to trust your own handwriting. "Meet Effy at Cassie's Cafe at 12?" You flick back to the card of her and reread it: _she'll help you to her own end. Don't trust her too much._

You stop outside Cassie's cafe. It's a dingy little place on the corner of the scummier end of Bristol, you reach into your pocket and pull out the note again. _Meet Effy at Cassie's Cafe at 12. _You have to do this, have constant reminders of your objective otherwise you forget what you're doing, that's part of your condition. You pull out the photos to remind yourself of her appearance again and then push open your car door, stepping out and fixing your camera strap over your shoulder. Nothing you need a picture of here.

You push open the door to the cafe and step inside, your eyes running over its occupants and picking out the face from the photo, she's at the back, facing away from you with a coffee in front of her. You hesitantly make your way over, you're always hesitant because you can't remember anyone or anything, better safe than sorry. You slide into the seat across from her and put your camera down on the table. "...Effy...right?" You always get this moment of panic when you assume something because in reality you know nothing.

"Hello, Naomi." Her voice is cool and very unnerving but you don't let it phase you. She clearly knows you, that's good enough. "You're late."

"Takes me a while to adjust. I've told you about my condition, right?" You reply.

"Yes, you can't remember anything. You don't remember me?" She asks and you shake your head, no, she smiles. "Okay, well, that's shit."

"It is." A silence falls over the pair of you and Effy just sips at her coffee. Makes no effort to lift the silence. "I'm sorry...but...err...why am I meeting you?"

"You arranged it you tell me."

"Well, I..."

"Can't remember?"

You laugh. "Well, no."

"You're here because you asked me to find someone for you." Effy pushes a brown envelope towards you over the table, you reach out and grab it, pull it towards you, don't open it though, not here. You look up at her. "You've already paid me for it." She answers before you can ask and you nod.

"Is this...?"

"The guy who killed her?" Your jaw clenches. "I don't know," She sparks up a fag. "Maybe it is, all I know is you asked me to find him. See you around, Naomi." And then she's gone and you're left sitting alone at a booth in Cassie's cafe. You scramble into your pocket and write in big letters on the envelope 'Must read; possibly HIM.'.

"**Babe you call out? Babe what's wrong?" **

When you get back to your room you've forgotten where you've come from, you scratch the back of your head as you sit down next to the window on a creaky old chair. You go through your pockets and pull out the brown envelope, you don't know where it's come from but you recognise your writing on the front of it; _Must read; possibly HIM. _You're hands tear the envelope open eagerly and you pull out the contents, an ammo magazine and a small bottle of liquid come out first, you place the brown envelope down on the table and pick up the mag, its for the gun you keep in your bag, you recognise the make label on the side and you always check your gun whenever you forget, not because you know you have it but to see what you do have. The next is a small bottle of liquid, you don't know what it is, looks like water to you so you place it to the side and press your hand down on the envelope, smiling when you feel some paper inside, you reach inside and remove it, placing it on the table in front of you and scanning it with your eyes.

"John Davies." You read aloud as you look over the picture of a man with black hair and blue eyes. You pull your sleeve up to your elbow and look at the tattoos you have there. _Fact 1: Male. _

"Check."

_Fact 2: White._

"Check."

_Fact 3: First name John._

"Check."

_Fact 4: Access to Drugs._

You don't know that one. You only know that because Emily was drugged when it happened, that was in the report, you had a friend that got you it, well, that's what it says on top of the report, you wrote it, so you'll never know. You shake your head and go back to the sheet. It has his address, age, licence plate number, height. Everything you need to know, you reach into the envelope one more time and find a scrap of paper at the bottom. _You left these at mine the other night. Effy._ You raise your eyebrows, you stayed at hers? You try not to think about that and go back to what you know. What you do know is that there is a guy, he might not be your guy, but you wanted him and he could be important. You reach for your pen and write on the back of the sheet; _find him, he has something you need. _And then you circle the address.

You don't know what you're doing when you pull up at the address on the back of the paper. You're eyes run over the paper and then you pull up your sleeves to look at the tattoos. You open the car door and walk up to the house, knocking briskly. You look over the red door and the glossy blue paint that coats the house and try to fit this guy into the image of John; it doesn't fit, but nothing ever fucking fits so you stand patiently and wait for the door to be answered. It doesn't have a creak like most doors have when it opens so you assume it must be new. The man from the photo sticks his head out. "John Davies?"

"Yeah? What can I do for you?" He pushes the door the rest of the way open and stands on the porch. You look him up and down. He's nothing special, not overly built but has some muscle on him and is reasonably tall, other than that he looks pretty normal to you.

"Can I come in?" You ask.

"Sure." He pushes open the door and lets you inside. There's a picture frame of him and his family as soon as you walk in the door, two kids and a wife, it doesn't fit. The house itself is neat and well groomed, you look hard to find something out of place or a spec of dirt but nothing catches your eye. He takes you into the living room and gestures for you to sit down, you do in the red single chair opposite the 42 inch TV. He's well off. "So, what can I do for you, Miss..?"

"Campbell, Naomi Campbell."

He stifles a laugh. "Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"That's unfortunate."

"Trust me, I know."

"Anyway," He coughs into his hand. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Yeah..." There's never an easy way to approach this. "Do you know who I am?"

"No."

"So, we've never met before?"

He glances away from her nervously. "Not that I can...er...remember."

"Do you know someone called Emily Fitch?"

"Look, what's this all about?"

"Do you know her, yes or no?"

"Yeah, I think so. Cute little redhead? Went to Roundview college with my sister?"

"Did you do it?" You can't be sure, so you just have to risk it.

"Do what?" He doesn't know or he pretends he doesn't so there's only one way you can find out. You pull out your gun and point it at his chest.

"Whoa! What the fuck is going on?" He asks in panic.

"You knew Emily, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Did you know that Emily Fitch died last year?"

"What? No. I'm sorry. I didn't know her personally." He's calmer than he should e for someone with a gun pointed at him, but you know from experience, from before the incident that people can put on fronts, so your grip tightens.

"She was raped and killed in her home."

"I..."

"By a man named John. John Davies?"

"What? No, I couldn't...I wouldn't...I have a family. I never knew the girl." You walk over and press the gun against his temple.

"Did you fucking do it?" Your voice breaks as you press it against his head. His eyes move in to focus on the gun as much as he can. "Did you!"

"No!"

"Naomikins!" The doors open and a boisterous male is standing in the door way donning a neatly worn polo shirt and jeans. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Who the fuck are you?" The gun moves to point at him. He knows you, he knows your name.

"Whoa, back off, blondie, just reach back there into your pockets and pull out those pictures of yours and take a look, then get back to me, yeah?" Your other hand hesitantly complies with what he says, snaking into your pocket and going through the pictures one by one until you find the one with his face on it. _Cook; don't know what to make of him._

"Cook?"

"That's right, Naomikins."

"How do I know you?"

"Don't worry, blondie, I know about your condition. Now how about we all sit down and have a cuppa, yeah? This ain't your man. Hell this guys name ain't even John!"

"What? But I've got..." You pull out the envelope and Cook's already taking it from your hands and scanning it.

"Who the fuck gave you this?"

"Cook?" John calls.

"Shut the fuck up for a second mate. Who gave you this Naomi?" You have to go through your pockets for a while but you find and name and give it to Cook. "Fuck, man. Your sister gave her this? What have you done to piss her off, Tone?" He turns towards the black haired male.

"Your names Tony?" You ask and he nods. "Then why did you reply to John?"

"My sister."

"What about her?"

"I'm hiding from her."

"Oh." You'll need to write this down at some point.

"I have a condition, Tony, where I can't remember things after a while. I can remember everything before my 'accident', but not after, so can we make this short. Only so much I can write down." You tell him and motion with the note pad and pen in your hand for extra effect.

"Sure..." Tony trails off slowly, like he hasn't quite registered yet what she's said. His eyes finally stop on her. "My sister is trying to kill me."

"Why?" You're very blunt, always have been.

"Naomikins let the man tell the story!" Cook interrupts. You scowl at him.

"My sister is trying to kill me because she believes that I owe her money."

"For what?"

"Drugs." Of course, you think, because it's always about drugs and money. Well, that's what films tell you anyway. So, you write down _drugs and money from Effy _and then wait for more. "It was an incident, if happened a while back, this guy contacted us saying that he would send us twice the amount of booze we order from his company, sounds good, right?" You nod. "Too bad I'm too gullible for my own good, I like to see the good in everyone so I did just that but what I didn't know."

"Oh, and here's the corker." Cook slaps his arm chair excitedly, you glance at him and force the smile fighting its way to the surface back down. No time for smiles. You don't remember smiling recently. You know the feeling of your lips moving into the position and the sound of the laughter erupting from your throat but you don't have the emotion. The joy. It's just gone.

"That's one way to put it." Tony nods but he doesn't smile, doesn't share Cooks excitement. "You see the thing is that Effy had a new boyfriend at the time and I didn't know that because she'd never said anything to me and she..."

"She did you over." You say with realisation and scribble that down quickly. You don't know if you can trust Effy at all now. What you wrote on the card was accurate but nowhere near this accurate.

"Yeah...she planned it all. Freddie was going to do me for five grand but I clocked on she left a message on my answer phone one day that was meant for him and after that I just pieced the rest of it together. I confronted her and she hit me with an ashtray, after that I've been running. But I've been doing some research as well and it gets worse. You see, Freddie's a heroin addict, a real bad one, abuses both methadone and the real stuff at the same time. He ordered a shit load of drugs and was going to pay the debt off with the money he was going to steal from me. I shut down the bar and have been moving around ever since."

"Fuck me. Is she still really looking for you?" You ask. You just realised that you've been with this manipulative bitch earlier.

"She bumped into Cook and I five months ago and let's just say it wasn't pretty. If I didn't have Cook there to back me up at the time they'd have found a way to do whatever they want to do to me right then and there." Tony's looking down at his hand now and you feel sorry for the bloke. I'm sure he's done some shit stuff in his life as well but for right now all you know is his perspective so you write it all down and then tuck it into the back of your jean pocket.

"So, where the fuck do you come into this story?" You ask Cook and he laughs.

"Can't talk now, Naomikins, I have to go see some man about some drugs," He glances at Tony with a shrug. "Sorry, mate." Tony waves it off and stares off out the window. Effy's fucked his whole life over now. You can sympathise with Tony because he doesn't have a life now, sure he has this fake one but he doesn't really exist. You know that feeling, you feel it every time you wake up and try and figure out where the hell you are and how you got there. "Meet me here tonight at 8, alright? And whatever the fuck you do, don't bump or whatever into miss I like to manipulative people because I'm a fucking cunt, alright?" You nod. "Good. See you then, bye Tone, mate. Booze tomorrow!" and the door slams shut. You glance at Tony who glances back at you awkwardly and then.

"Sorry, who are you?"

"I'm Tony, we've been talking for the last ten minutes."

"Sorry, just gotta read something..." You reach back into your pocket and go through some notes. It makes sense again.

"**Is everything alright, Emily?" Naomi hands run over the empty space in the bed next to her. There's a slight bang and she jumps, head turning towards it. The blonde's alert now, she's always been paranoid. Naomi shift so she's sitting up in the bed and then her feet touch the cold floor boards. She shiver, there's something in the air. She move towards the cupboard at the back end of the room and reach inside, her fingers wrapping around the wooden handle of her protection; a baseball bat. She heads toward the source of the noise. **

**It's weird, sneaking around her own home. In the day it's a place for Emily and her to relax, unwind and just be together but at night the place becomes eerie. It's not especially big or small, it's a kind of in-between place. Emily found it in some cheap newsagents going out of business, they let them have a discount but it was still a little bit out of their price range. Emily had promise she'd work more shifts if Naomi would let them get it. She'd caved well, because it's Emily and she loves her and, well, that's it really, that's what love does to a person. It had been hard for the first few months, hungrier than used to being, no little dips into pockets for stuff they didn't need but wanted to and no tv, for the first few months. Naomi had then hit the jackpot when she'd landed a promotion at work, protesting didn't really reap the benefits but when you hit that jackpot and someone notices you and you get picked up, that little extra cash goes a long way and that's where the good times had really started.**

**As Naomi crept down the hall, her hand running over the cream coloured walls she smiles. She always liked decorating with Emily, she made it fun. **

"_Pass me the brush, babe?" Naomi placed the roller on the floor and stood back up, wiping her brow. Always hurt her back, painting ceilings. She looked over to her redhead girl who had some paint sitting on the end of her button nose. Naomi laughed to herself. How does she get herself into these situations, she wondered. She stepped toward the redhead and placed her thumb in her mouth, sucking on it. _

"_What are you doing?" Emily asked, staring at her girlfriend confused. _

"_You've got some...Just let me..." Her suckled thumb rubbing the paint from Emily's nose._

"_Thanks, mum."_

"_Hey, I was only trying to be nice, Ems."_

"_Painting's about getting messy, everything doesn't have to be so neat and organised, you know?" Emily flicked some paint toward Naomi, stripping it down her shirt._

"_I like this shirt!" Naomi cried outraged._

"_So, get another one?"_

"_At forty pound a go, Emily it's not that easy to get a new one because your redhead girlfriend has a fetish for throwing paint." She grumbled and walked over, picked up a brush and returned to the can, dipped it in and began to slide it up and down the wall. Covering its surface in a thick gloop of cream paint, she smoothed one second down and moved onto another. Emily pouted, trying to catch the blonde's attention. Naomi noticed but pretended not to, focused on the wall in front of her rather than the sexy redhead to her left. Emily placed her hands on Nan's hips, running them up her sides before pulling her into a hug, resting her head on the blonde's shoulder, pressing a kiss to her cheek._

"_I'm sorry." Silence._

"_You will be." Naomi laughed and flicked some paint right down Emily's top. A gasp and Emily slaps her on the shoulder._

"_You bitch! I thought you were angry at me!" Naomi winks and dodges away from the redhead. "Get back here!" Emily chases her. Picking up her own paint brush she starts to flick more paint towards the blonde. Naomi's laugh is infectious and Emily can't help herself, soon enough she's laughing along with the blonde, dodging paint and trying to catch Naomi out. Eventually, Emily fakes dodging one way and goes another, Naomi running straight into her arms. "Gotcha!" Emily's face is so proud, the fact she's outsmarted the blonde overtaking her face and breaking out in a broad smile. Naomi takes a hand full of paint and smears it down the redhead's cheek, laughing at Emily's change in facial expression when she does it. Emily takes some more and smears it across Naomi's forehead. "Karma." She states in her sweetest tone of voice and cocks her head at Naomi. Naomi smiles. She looks so cute like that. She loves her. So she kisses her. Emily smiles into the kiss and kisses her back, let's Naomi push her up against the wall only to realise it's covered in paint. "Nai..."_

"_What?" Naomi grunts from the kiss._

"_The walls paint is getting smudged. Can we take this to the floor?" Naomi doesn't say anything just pulls Emily back and pushes her down to the ground, climbing on top of the redhead. Emily groans and tightens her grip in Naomi's hair, the paints gonna be a bitch to get out later but she doesn't care because Naomi is pressing kisses down her collarbone and one of her hand is slowly trailing down to the place she really wants it to be. It's the messiest sex they've ever had, but one of the best._

**Naomi's mind is filled with that memory all the time she's pressed up against the wall. A bang sounds out from the other end of the house, in the kitchen, but she doesn't have time to go check that because she can hear Emily crying in the bath room next to her. Her eyes begin to water. Not Emily, what's happened? She can hear other people in the room with her as well moving around. Breathing becomes hard. She can't let anything happen to her. Her grip tightens on the bat, sweat on her palms she steps one step closer to the door. She wants to be there now. In the room but something is keeping her from doing so. **

**Slow and steady, the whimper gets louder to her, banging around in her head. Emily! And when she hears a cry, just the tiniest of sounds she kicks into over drive, pushing forward so kicks open the door, instinct carrying her. There's one guy on top of Emily holding her down as he takes her. Naomi's eyes fill with rage. "Get the fuck off her!" She screams. A head turns towards her and there's a chuckle. She charges forward, hitting the man square in the head with the bat. He falls to the floor in a sprawl. "Emily! Emily are you okay?" She's shaking the redhead's shoulders, hoping to get some form of life from here. There's a groan and she smiles happily, looks around for something to cover the redhead up with. A towel, the blonde reaches for it, placing it over Emily's exposed body when it's finally in her hands. **

"**It's okay, babe. It'll be fine. I'm here now, okay?" Cradling the redhead to her chest Naomi promises herself that she'll never let go of the redhead again. She doesn't hear the floor creak behind her before it's too late and she's shoved against the wall, her head smacking into the glass cabinet and cracking her skull. Her vision starts to fade and she blinks, looking up at her attacker. It's the man she hit, he'd recovered, bleeding heavily from his head but has recovered. He looks down at her. Black mask donning his face and cocks his head at her. If he had no mask she was sure he'd be smiling smugly at her. Panic rises in her once last time, hoping for a burst of adrenaline but nothing comes. She can't do anything, she's helpless. Her eyes drop down to the redhead who's starting to stir. Emily's eyes open and she looks at the blonde confused, and then she sees the blonde. "Naomi!" she mouths, can't speak. Lost her voice. Naomi tries to fight it, tries to stay awake but the blackness that is starting to surround her is getting even harder to fight off. The last thing she does before she succumbs is reach out her hand and grip Emily's, one last squeeze. Hope.**

**She coughs, hard and fast. She coughs again. There's something around her mouth. Her eyes are fuzzy and luminous lights are hanging above her head. What the fuck? She looks around, her vision starting to focus, breathing heavy. What the fuck? "Naomi? Naomi! She's waking up, doc!" She hears a male's voice. **

"**It's Cook, Naomi. I'm a mate of Emilio's from work."**

"**What are you doing here?" Naomi's voice is hoarse. Cook hands her some water and helps her drink it.**

"**I was coming round late, to drop some stuff off that Emilio left at work. Her bag and stuff. She just left it sitting on her desk. Probably got too busy with all that paper work." **

"**Probably..." Naomi muses. "Cook? That's your name, right?"**

"**Yes, Naomi?"**

"**Where's Emily?"**

"**Ah."**

You don't know why, but that stuck. Not knowing Cook. You don't remember who he is, well, you do every time he reminds you of how, but you remember the fact that she died. You think it's because even though you've got short term memory loss, some part of you cares so much about Emily that it can overcome the part of your brain that tells you to forget. Well, that's what you like to think anyway. You read over your notes one more time. You only have a short amount of time when you do this to plan out what your next step in your plan is. What Tony told you is of great importance, so you write on Effy's photo 'need to see her about what Tony said.'. Cook said he'd meet you later so you write a note to yourself saying 'meet Cook later at Tony's'. Those are the next two steps. You look back up to the house with Tony sitting inside and sigh. Fucking family. You put the key into the ignition and press down on the accelerator hard, you wish you could remember him...he seemed like a nice guy.

You wait for a call, you sit in your room and wait. Keep picking up the piece of paper you wrote on and just wait. The phone rings a couple of times and you pick it up hastily, it's only the motel manager checking in on you. He knows about your condition and he seems like a nice guy. Caring. Annoying as well though because all you need is this call and then you can get one step closer to figuring out this massive mess you've unintentionally gotten yourself involved in. Just as you start to ponder the components of the game, the phone rings, you're on your feet and answer hastily. "Hello?"

"Naomi?" a cool voice replies.

"Who is this?"

"Effy, don't you remember me?" It's slightly patronizing. It irritates you but you don't feel comfortable enough to voice that opinion.

"No."

"That's right, you've got a con-"

"—diton, yeah. You know that, well, at least I think you do. Why are you playing games?" The confusion evident in your voice.

"I'm not playing games."

"Then what are you doing?"

"I'm hoping one of these days you'll remember me." And it knocks you completely off balance. You wonder if you wrote anything down about Effy's uncanny ability to put people off edge anywhere, unlikely, you only write down the important things. "Can you come over?"

"Why?"

"I need to see you."

"About what?" You are holding her photograph in your hands. 'She'll help you to her own end. Don't trust her too much' even more prominent then even. You slowly shake the photo, hoping some sort of secret answer will come from it. It doesn't. You place it back down and wait for her reply, but she's been silent for a while.

"How'd it go?"

"Who is this?" You ask. You don't know who you're on the phone to.

"It's...Effy." She says confused. You reach down and pick up the picture again. Effy, 'dont' trust her too much'. It's hard, when you forget so quickly and have to remember so fast.

"Right, okay, what did you want?"

"How did it go with John Davies?"

John Davies? You search around the room. It doesn't take you long, you gather the necessary information you're looking for. "He wasn't the guy I was looking for." It's cryptic. You want to throw her off balance.

"Anything happen?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Just asking." You liar, you think. "You need to come see me."

"And why is that, Effy?" You can hear the patience running thin in your own voice now and Effy takes a breath in before replying.

"Because I think I might have found the guy."

"You've said that before to me." You sigh.

"I know, but I think I've finally got him. It all fits!" She sounds genuine but you can't be sure. Have to listen to your own handwriting after all.

"And what make this one so special?" You take a breath in. "Because you've been sure of all of them before and none of them have been the right one. I've looked for so long and so hard and I know there comes a period of trial and error but I don't think I can take much more. I think I'll have to do it on my own..." You put the bait out there.

"No!..." She coughs. "I mean, no, let me help you. I'm sure this is him, I promise."

"Why are you so eager to help me?" You shoot back.

"Because I care." Off balance again. Fuck sake.

"Fuck it," you mutter. "Fine, I'll be round soon."

"Cool." She replies and then she's gone. You write something down and then take a moment for yourself. You forget it all just like that, but you remember it later, you always remember it later.

When you knock, you don't know what to expect. "Come on." You don't even see Effy when she pulls the door ajar and walks back into the darkness, well, you think it's her. You just see a figure, no detail. You step inside hesitantly and close the door. Her house is fucking creepy. Paper with notes scribbled on them all hung up over the place, some cats scattering around and the distinct smell of whiskey filling its entirety. You step on something and it crunches, you groan. These shoes look nice, you hope they weren't too much, you don't even look at what you stepped in, just walk on through towards Effy's direction.

"Effy?" You call out and take a step closer.

"In here." She calls from a room at the back. You hear her placing glasses on the side. "So, how'd it go with John Davies?" Time to stop playing games.

"You know how it went!" Her eyes bulged out and she turns towards you.

"What do you mean?"

"I already told you." This catches her off guard. She laughs at that, it's fake, she knows it and so do you. She's fumbling around with a cigarette packet in her hands. She pulls it out and lights it, taking a drag, glazing her eyes. She looks from side to side. "What's up with you?"

"Did you kill him?" Effy almost hisses it.

Your eyes bulge. "What?"

She advances on you. "Did you kill him?" It's louder but still harsh. Pressing you back into the cabinet.

"Get the fuck off me, psycho bitch!" you roar and push her away, reaching for your gun and holding it out at her. "Back the fuck off! I know okay, I know! I know that Tony's your brother. I know that you sent me there to clear his debt, well, fuck you, Effy! I'm not a hit man!"

"Yes, you are! You're a fuck up." It catches you off guard. You thought that because you'd pulled a gun and got the upper hand with the big reveal. "You stupid little bitch! Looking for answers where there aren't any," She's in your face now. Mocking you. Your teeth grit in frustration and your eyes tear in horror. "You can't find the truth because there isn't any truth to be found. Your cunt of a wife got what she deserved and you'll get what you deserve as well! You are nothing. Pathetic, fucking retard!" You hit her with the gun, hard across the face and she looks back at you shocked.

"Shut up!" You shout. "Shut the fuck up! I want some answers and I want them now! You're going to give them to me or I'm going to make you!" You declare and advance on the wounded girl. You don't get the chance though because somebody hits you from behind and you feel that familiar darkness overtake you. Fuck sake, not again.

Effy rummages through your pockets. You don't know though, you're not awake. She picks up the photos and takes a lighter from her pocket, burning all of them. She goes into your bag this time and pulls your camera from it. You give the camera to Freddie and make him take one of you, you write on it. 'She will help.' She slides it back into your pocket and turns to the tall male next to her. "What you gonna do, Ef? She's onto us." Effy goes into her bag again and looks at the notes. She pulls out a few pages and burns them, too.

"Not anymore she's not."

"What you gonna do now?"

Effy picks up the last picture and smiles. It's a picture of Cook. She knows who he is. Of course she does. He's Naomi's lad dog, guardian angel who keeps an eye out for her ever since the accident. "We're going to get rid of our problems. She'll do it this time. I'll make sure of it."

Freddie smiles. "Good."

"Naomi! Naomi! Wake up! Fucking hurry up and wake up!" You hear the voice of someone calling at you. You force your eyes open and look up. You don't recognise the brunette above you.

"Wha..who are you?" you mumble.

"It's Effy!" She rummages into your pocket and pulls out a picture, hands it towards you. You look it over, recognise the picture see the words and nod to yourself. You know who she is. You can trust her. You seem to be bound in ropes, you can feel it round your wrists. Effy takes a knife from the kitchen counter and cuts them. "Quick, we have to get out of here! He'll come back!"

"Who!" You exclaim. She doesn't answer, just pulls you to your feet and pushes you towards the door. There's banging on the wall next to you and your head snaps towards it. Fuck. She's right. He's here! But where's here ad who the fuck is he! Is he the one that killed Emily! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! You and Effy are out the door and into the sunshine. She pulls you towards the car door and pushes you inside.

"He's coming! Drive!" She hands you the keys. You put them in and drive. Drive so fast that you leave marks on the ground and smoke in the air. "Keep going!"

"Where! Fucking where!" You smack a hand against the steering wheel.

"Pull over here!" You do. Effy pushes her hair back and groans.

"What the fuck was that?" You are bound to forget soon, you think. You rummage through your bag and pulling out a pen and paper. Effy sits in silence. "Will you hurry the fuck up! Time isn't on my side you know."

"It was Cook."

"Who?"

"You've met him before. He was trying to kill you. Luckily I found you. He'd tied you up and put you in that house. A friend of mine and I tracked you down, they gave me the address and I came for you. He's the one who killed Emily. He admitted it to me and tried to stab me but I got the better of him and knocked him out. He was in the other room. Look." She holds out her arm with a slash down the side of it. It's deep and you cringe, looks painful.

"He's...the one?"

"Yes!"

"He admitted it?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"I don't know. He told me. To rub it in probably. Said you found him somehow."

"No..." You pause. Your heart is beating faster than ever. Adrenaline. You need this to be over and it's so close to it being over. Is this him? Really? It seems that way. Emily, he will pay. I promise. Effy looks at you expectantly. "Why did he do it?"

Effy sighs. "I don't know." Silence follows. Effy reaches over and grabs the paper and pen from your hands. She scribbles something down onto it and hands it back to you. 'James Cook. You can find him at this address. He'll be the one in the polo shirt and dirty hair.' The address is written underneath for you. You frown. How does Effy know all this?

"Aren't you worried that he's going to come after us? And why don't we just go back there? He's all knocked out. We could just go in and end it and that would be that." You point out the obvious.

"He was waking up when I left. He'll be gone by now. I know for a fact that he had to meet someone this evening, that's who I got the information off. His name is Tony, that address is his house. Now go, Naomi. Get him, before you forget." You scribble some more information down on the paper and then look back up at Effy. "Thank you." She smiles.

"No problem, Naomi." And then gets out of the car. You watch as a girl you don't know walks across the road and up the path. You can't help but think she looks mysterious.

You chew on the pen as you sit outside of the house. You don't think you've been here before. You don't know how you found this 'Cook' character before either. He doesn't fit some of the slots in your story but the way you woke up, well, from what you've gotten written down in front of you would suggest this is finally him. And that puts you on edge. Emily, you smile just thinking about her. She was wronged, fucking wronged! Murder like some little bug, a speck of nothing on the earth's surface and it makes the rage boil up in you so bad. You grip the gun in your palm and look at the house one more time. Fuck it. Time to just do something instead of sitting back! You push open the car door, slam it shut and walk up to the house, you knock and wait. "Alright, Naomikins!"

BANG.

He's down, Cook's on the floor with a look of horror on his face. He reaches down to his stomach and presses his shaking had against the wound, he pulls it back and looks at the blood. He looks back up at her. "Naomikins...why?" He gasps.

"What's going on in here?" Tony asks stepping in from the other room. You point the gun at him. Effy said he'd be here.

"Back off."

"Naomi!" Tony's shocked. "What the fuck have you done? Cook, Cook, are you alright mate?" He bends down not caring about the gun and pulls Cook close to him trying to get a better look at the wound. "Oh, fuck! It's bad!" He runs out the room and goes to find something. You don't know why you haven't shot him yet. You're looking from the gun and back to Cook. You don't feel that rage anymore, you don't feel the satisfaction. Some part of you feels dread. That you've got the wrong man, that you've killed an innocent.

"You shouldn't have done it." You state, pointing the gun at Cook again.

"Done what, Naomikins? Be there for you? Look after you? Make sure you don't go off the rails?"

"What?" You throw the gun out in outrage. Confused, you're so fucking confused. Don't listen to him. He might be lying! "What are you talking about?"

"Whose got you twisted, blondie? Who's been telling you fucking lies?" He mutters. Laughs to himself meekly and crawls towards the table top. He opens the top draw. You point the gun at him. "Don't worry I aint gonna hurt you. Take a look at this. I brought it round to show, ya. Something you needed to see. Should've shown you ages ago but didn't want you to think I didn't care. Cuz i do." He hands an envelope to you, it should've been completely white but droplets of blood had landed on it. It was smeared now, tainted. Your hand shakes as you take it, you recognise the hand writing of the name, it's Emily's. It says 'James.'

_Dear James, _

_I'm writing you this out of caution. Over the last couple of weeks I haven't felt safe, not because of any immediate threat but because of a feeling. Yeah, I know, right? Typical Emily blowing things out of proportion. But someone's been following me I'm sure of it. I don't know who but I can feel them watching me all the time. I've gone to the police but they won't listen. I'm worried, James. I can trust you, I know you and you're an okay guy, so that's why I'm asking you. If anything happens to me, will you make sure that Naomi's alright? Make sure that she can cope. That she's not alone. She's never been one to be open about her feelings, just...even when she's being a complete bitch, just promise me you won't give up on her? She means so much to me._

_Love, _

_Emily. _

For the first time in a long time you feel a tear running down your cheek. You haven't cried in a long time. Not since, well, since you found out about Emily. Not since you promised that you'd avenge her. The gun shakes in your hand and you try to control it. "I'm sorry..." you whisper and Cook laughs.

"It's alright, Naomikins, we all make mistakes."

"Fuck." You drop to your knees and crawl towards him. You pull him to you. "You were only trying to help. You weren't him at all. Shit. Fuck sake, Ems." You laugh to yourself. Always has to play the guardian angel.

"Yeah, Fuck sake, Ems." Cook repeats and calls you close. "I know you don't remember me, Blondie, but I've been there, yeah? I know you and I know what you're doing. We've been over this a thousand times. I don't know if you're gonna find what you're looking for, but it is just what you're looking for, babe. Emily wouldn't want this, you know it, I know it. You can't move on because of this fucked up brain thing you got going on but, you gotta find peace. Gotta get some relief, blondie, cuz this shit's consuming you."

"Why aren't you more angry? I just fucking shot you!" You cry, tears cascading down your cheeks now. It feels good. Good to cry. Cook tugs you closer.

"You already know."

"What?"

"You already know who it is."

"What!" Confusion growing inside of you.

"I hid it from you...Emily wouldn't have...wanted...look...closer." He coughs up blood this time and then drops back against the floor, weezing as his body twitches. Naomi hand comes up to her mouth in shock. What the fuck? She reaches foward.

"Don't touch him!" Tony commands. Dropping to the floor, he presses two fingers against Cook's neck looking for a pulse. "He's...dead. Fucking dead." Tony mutters. He sits back on his knees and rubs his eyes. "Come on, Cook buddy, it was going so well. Why'd you have to go leave the party early? You always were king of the party." You hear him mutter under his breath. That's his way of grieving you guess. You don't know why but this guy that you can't even remember death has effected you a lot then you anticipated. Guilt it's a bitch and it's stinging like hell right now. You pull You look at him in shock. "He's fucking dead! The police will be here soon and he wouldn't want you caught." You stay still. "You've done enough! Leave! Get the fuck out!" With his final roar you push yourself to your feet, grab then gun and run out of the door. You hope that you'll forget this fast. Forget killing a man. You can't stand it so far.

It's a graveyard, just an ordinary graveyard. You've been here many times before, well you think you have. Your notes say so. You look out at the hundreds of stones in front of you and none of them matter, none but one. Emily's. You are in front of Emily's grave. "I...I've never understood...didn't understand what people were supposed to be doing here...when they come to grave yards to talk to something that isn't there. I just know...oh fuck...I miss you, okay, Emily?" Your voice breaks. "I...miss your smile and you hair and your smell and I miss every fucking thing about you, alright? Sometimes it's hard, so fucking hard and all I want to do is be in your arms again in our bed, in our home! The place where we belong. It's not fair! It's not fair that you were taken from me. I needed you. I...still need you." You drop down and press your head against her gravestone, your tears dropping onto the stone beside it. "I'm broken. The person who I am now isn't the Naomi you love...and I'm...I'm scared you wouldn't love me like this. I killed someone innocent. Someone you asked to look after me if you ever...you know...and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. My words feel empty. I feel so numb. I'm lost without you Emily. Dead." Your tears overcome you and you just sit there for a few minutes, arms wrapped around a gravestone because it's the closet you can get to her. And you need it. "I have to end it though, I know it's not what you want, but I need an end game, okay? After all this it's a home for me, no one with my condition can truly live a normal life. I can't even get over you Emily, you are my one and only. I can't forget you, I wouldn't want to. I love you." You have to end it.

"She misses you, too, you know?" You hear from behind you.

"Katie?" You ask through your tear filled eyes.

"Yeah, it's me, bitch." She crouches down on the ground next to you and puts down some flowers. "Hey, sis, how are you today? Keeping tidy, I see." She comments about the condition of the grave. "I'm sorry, I haven't been around for her as much as you'd want me to be." You look at her. "It's was hard for me as well, yeah? I loved you, too, you silly muff muncher. I'll look after her now, though. I promise, I won't let her do anymore damage then she's already done." You smile. Katie can be less bitchlike sometimes.

"And what makes you think I want your protection?"

"Shhh! I'm talking here." Katie snaps playfully. "She loves you, I see that now. I'm sorry I doubted it. Love you, Ems. See you soon." And with that Katie stands and offers her hand to you. "Coffee?" this is the first time you've spoken to Katie since the accident. She was unreasonable after blaming you. She's had time to cool off and you are happy. You pull out your pad and pen and scribble something down. "There's something I have to do first, but when it's finished," you grit your teeth. You are ending this. One way or another. No more, no fucking more! "We'll put Emily to rest properly, yeah?"

"I'd like that."

"Me too." And then Katie's gone, after giving you a brief hug.

What you've scribbled? Hope.

It's just a motel room, an ordinary hotel room. You know you've been here before because of the key in your pocket. You step inside and look around. It's normal. Bed, tv on a small desk, draws and a bathroom, nothing unusual. You walk over to the bed and sit down on the edge. It's early morning, the sun is shining through the window. You look out and smile. You've forget the pain of last night, sure, it's down on paper but it's not the same. You don't feel the guilt as much now, because you can't remember and that helps. You stand in front of the mirror completely bare, looking yourself up and down, seeing yourself inside out. The phone rings and makes you jump, it's just the motel clerk checking on you. He seems like a nice guy. You hang up and look back at yourself. Your tattoos mare your skin, you trace your fingers across the main one. The one you look at all the time, just to remind yourself, motivate yourself and keep you on edge. "John _ raped and killed my wife." You look at how faded it is, has it really been that long? You look at some others, random bits of information that have led you to this point. There's a very old one, one you've never really understood until now. It says "Look closer...lights off." You frown. A message from Cook? How'd he get it on her body? Have you known something before and forgotten it since then?

You sit around for a while trying to figure it out. Something to look closer at? You pull out all your notes and go through everything, every little detail but none of it makes sense. It annoys you because you like to think that you've become a person that looks over every detail, into every nook and cranny until you uncover everything, and you can't find one thing. One thing that could be so vitally important, but then again it might be nothing. Cook seemed nice enough, but could he have figured it out all before her? You search for a long time, don't look up to the clock just keeps going. It's annoying that you have to keep remembering everything before you can start looking again. And then you find something, in the most miraculous way, you feel anger rise up in you and it's your favourite emotion, it's one of power and true feeling, to feel the rage inside you, to you means you are still alive and kicking. You pick up the lamp on the desk next to you, it's creating minimal light in the room but you need it to read, but fuck it, you smash it against the wall. It darkens the corner of the room you are in, the rest is lit up by daylight but the back corner of it isn't. You sigh and run your hand through your hair, dropping your hand back down something catches you are, there's something on your hand, it's tinted green and covering your thumb. What the fuck? You walk over towards your bed side table to try and get a better look in the light but it disappears. You gasp. You move back over to the desk and open one of the draw, pull out the envelope entitled 'Must read: might be HIM!' and tip the contents on the desk top, you hold up the small bottom of clear liquid. You know what it is now. Invisible ink. Lights out. Your eyes bug. You grab and pen and scribble it down so you won't forget. You walk over to the curtains, pull them and push them into the windows blocking out as much light as possible. You move over back into the blackness and look around the room, for anything or any sort of clue. It's the only hope you've got. Nothing, you sigh and sit down in the desk chair, you were sure you were onto something. Then you see it, the familiar green tint, the tiniest speck of it sticking out from the corner of the massive picture of a boat on the motel wall. Above the bed. You smile. You stand up on the bed and lift the picture and drop it down. You look back in awe. No fucking way. Written on your wall in your own hand writing is. "Effy knows who he is. Go find her. Watch out for Freddie, it took you fucking long enough."

You write it down, you've never written so fast in your life.

You kicked the door hard, the hinges snap under the force and the door bursts open. No time for games. You shoot Freddie in the chest three times as soon as he stands to stop you, he drops like a sack of shit and Effy screams in horror. You smile, point the gun at her and shoot her once in the leg. She drops, it's not over for her yet. Oh, no.

You grab her by her hair and pull her to the wall, you crouch down, putting pressure on her leg and holding her there with your other hand. She cries out in pain. "No more games, Effy! You tell me what I want to know and you tell me now!"

"I don't..."

"Don't you lie! I know you know who he is. Now, you tell me the whole story and you tell me now otherwise I'll shoot you in the other leg as well and leave you here." You press the gun hard against her other knee cap and she whimpers. You know she's going to break before she does. "Well!" You ask forcefully pushing the gun harder.

"Alright! Okay! Okay! You win. I'll talk."

"Yeah, you will." You take joy in your victory, smirking at the squirming brunette. "Now, tell me."

"Okay, his...ah, watch it...sorry, his name is John Foster. He's a therapist."

"A therapist, why would he want Emily?"

"He likes to collect girls okay. He likes to manipulate them, he did it to me I was one of his patients. He tried to get me to run away with him, to be with him but I wouldn't have it. I thought that would be it after that, that he would leave me alone and I'd be fine and happy to be with Freddie. Oh fuck Freddie." Effy's eyes fall on the body of her boyfriend.

"Don't look at him," you slap her. "Look at me." She does, teary eyed and scared. You almost feel for the girl, almost.

"Okay," glancing at Freddie. "He..errr...he came back, hurt Freddie. Threatened to kill us both unless we did what he said, but then you and that Cook guy had to fucking catch on, didn't you? You had to go and wreck what we had going and he told us to make you forget, so we did. We blamed my brother, I didn't want to do that, but you haven't meet this guy, okay? He's controlling. He can make you do things and I had to...I just had to. When Cook found this all out he kept it from you, but you found something, a video clip of John Foster and you knew, you just knew and then you found proof. We burned it, burned all the information you had on him in some hope that you'd forget about it and you did, for 3 months, 3 months we got without him at our door and you've gone and fucked it again."

"Why Emily though?"

"Because she was seeing him."

"I knew she was seeing a therapist. She told me for family counselling. But why did he choose her?" You ask, angrily.

"Because she didn't have a family to go looking. He didn't count on you, though. She never mentioned that you were so...persistent." You almost growl at her for that.

"Where can I find him?"

"You don't want to."

"WHERE!" You cry and push the gun against her skull. She whimpers and tries to shift away. She nods and coughs.

"His address is in the draw of my bed side table. He'll be at work now so..."

"Good, that's the perfect time." You grab the gun and point it at her. She cries out and holds her hands in front of her face.

"Please, no! I don't want to die! Please!"

"You're pathetic." You spit and then hit her with the gun, knocking her out. Fucking bitch. She's lucky you don't kill her. Not after what she did to Emily. You walk into the other room and go into the draw, you find the card and write down the address. You write down as much information about what just happened as possible and then leave. Then you forget. Then you remember. Then you go after him.

"Ah, Miss Campbell, I've been expecting you." He says as he sits down across from you. He's everything you imagined to be behind that mask. A smug, sharp face that makes you instantly want to break his face. "I was wondering how long it was going to take you to find me." He knows why you are here, that makes this easier.

"Did I meet your expectations?"

"I thought you'd find me two weeks earlier than this but still, you're the only one. I don't know how you did it, especially with that...condition you have but you did it and I must say I'm impressed. I'm sure Emily would be as well." You grit your teeth. How dare he talk about her! He has no right! Your grip tightens on the gun in your pocket. He sees you movement and reads it. He opens a draw to his left and puts some files into it, quicker than you anticipate he pulls a silenced pistol out and shoots you twice in the chest. One hitting you just below the shoulder and the other hitting you just below your left breast. You gasp and a wheezing sound escapes your throat. He coughs politely walks around and pulls the gun from your pocket, throws it away into the corner and sits on the desk in front of you. "Ah, what a situation you've gotten yourself into Miss Campbell, Can I call you Naomi?" He doesn't wait for a reply. "Naomi, look what you've done, you've confronted the man that killed and raped your wife and he's not only outsmarted you but killed you as well, I thought you were better than this?" He stands and places a hand on your shoulder, patting it. A single tear trickles down your cheek. You've failed her. "It was quite simple you see, Naomi. Everyone feels lust and I take what I want and your...girlfriend was a spectacular specimen, absolutely fascinating and after the second I saw her I knew I had to have her. I know you've met Effy before so this is how it went, I used Effy to get to know Jenna Fitch, she was easily convinced to book the family to see me here and once I'd spoken to Emily I had to have her even more, Emily spoke very highly, you know?" He steps closer to the window and looks out, smiling into the sun. "Even when I convinced her to do private sessions with me she wouldn't shut up about you, just keep going on and on about her perfect you two were for each other. It disgusted me. She was so blinded by you that she couldn't see me right in front of her, she wasn't as spectacular as I first thought." He turns to face you. "She was tainted. By you. So I took what I wanted. I got Effy to get me your address because Effy can get just about anything and I only had the family's address. I had to keep her in line though, she didn't want to do it at first but once I threatened that boyfriend of hers she did as she was told. So once I had that all I had to do was just simply, take what I wanted and I did just that, but I remember that night well and I remember what you did to me. I couldn't work for weeks after, that bat left a mark. You'll pay for that." He marches forward and slams his fist into your face, hard. Twice. You gasp as you hit the floor. He kicks you in the chest and you cough and splutter.

"So weak. So weak all you women. So easy to manipulate. But you, you are one of a kind. I underestimated you and your male friend, Cook. He chased me away that night but I knew you'd come looking and you did." You gasp and look out towards the city. The towers are blurred in your view. You squeeze your eyes tight and try to focus. You look around for anything, for any hope. "And he found me, long before you did but I made sure he didn't tell you, held his life in the palm of my hands and he backed off, promised to keep you in check but he didn't and I had to make sure Effy made you forget, more than once. But she made a mistake, she made you kill him and in the cowards death he told you truth which he could not take back, which led you to my door. So I hope you are happy." You reach up and grade the glass object from the desk. Your hands slips all over it. "Because know you get to die like the whore of your girlfriend. Do you want to know what it felt like? To be in her? To have her writh underneath me? She was so happy about it. She loved every second of it and I'm going to do that to you too before you die. Because you fascinate me as well. How can something so weak just keep coming back?"

"You tell me." You rasp and slam the snow globe down into the back of his head. His head smashes forward into the glass and you hit him again. And again and again and again until you can't see the shape of a head anymore. All you see is blood. You slum down over his dead body. He's finally fucking got what he deserves. They say revenge doesn't bring you relief, but you chest feels lighter, you don't know if that's because of the blood loss or because it's finally over but when you slump back to look out over the setting sun. You smile. I'm coming Ems, I'm coming.

When the sun sets, your eyes close for the last time.

Naomi's eyes open for the first time in a long time and her pupil moves and Emily gasps. That's the first time in months that she's had any movement in that area. "Doctor, doctor!" the redhead cries excitedly. A curly haired man comes running over, out of breath and looking at the blonde anxiously.

"Yes, Emily, how can I help you? I'm very busy, you see. I've got lots of patients and Naomi's condition isn't one of my main priorities. When it comes to this sort of brain damage..."

"Doctor Jones, focus." The redhead's become use to him. He gets locked on but is a terrific doctor.

"Sorry and please call me JJ." He shakes his head and focuses. "What did you want Emily?"

"It's Naomi, Doctor. She opened her eyes! And her pupils are moving! Surely that's a good thing." JJ looks at for concerned for a second.

"I've told you before Emily, Naomi's condition isn't the sort of one she can recover from. She'll be like this most likely forever."

"Can't you just take a look?" The young doctor frowns but nods his head. Pulls out a tiny torch from inside his white jacket and walks over to the blonde laying in the hospital bed. He reaches down and shines the light into her eyes, Naomi's eye jumps towards the source. He gasps. He reaches over and does the same to the other eye, the same effect.

"This is most unlikely. Most peculiar. A rarity, I don't know how or what could have caused this. I can only speculate that Naomi is somehow forcing herself better. I don't quite understand it."

"What does this mean, doctor?"

"I honestly, don't know Emily. I won't say for sure she'll get better because that is still very unlikely, she could be reacting to your presence or her subconscious is struggling to deal with something. All I can say is you need to be there for her. To care for her. Love her like she loves you and whatever happens, Naomi will be somewhat okay." Emily nods.

"Thank you, JJ."

"Let me know if anything else happens?" Emily nods. She sits back down on the bed next to the redhead and takes the blondes hand. "Everything will be fine, Nai. I'll never leave you." She reaches down and presses a kiss to the blonde's hand. A tear dropping down her check. "Because I know in there, in your head, your thinking about me, too, like I think about you everyday. So, what would you like today salad or jelly...? Jelly's quite nice..." She drags off. As she talks she drags her eyes over the bed next to her, a brunette girl, she thinks her name is Effy is laying in the bed next to her, she has a broken leg and her boyfriend, a tall bloke with dark hair is watching over her. He doesn't seem too friendly. She smiled at Tony as he handed her the jelly, he was a porter here, volunteered, he seemed to take a particular interest in Effy but Emily didn't know why, she didn't question it. Tony liked to tell Emily that Naomi was dreaming and when that dream ended she'd finally wake up. Emily secretly hoped that was true. Katie came every Sunday with Emily, she'd help feed Naomi, dress her and bring her sister things that she thought would help her. Keep her sane while she looked after her girlfriend. Katie cried about Naomi too sometimes, but she'd never admit it to Emily. She had to put up a dront to her. Cook comes to visit Naomi with Emily sometimes too, he was the one to save them both from the hands of John Foster. He'd come into the house the same night, seen the broken window, come in and found John standing over a bloody Naomi in the bath room, he'd strangled the bloke to death then and there, Emily said it was self defence and stuck by it. She'd gotten better after the attack, but the blow to Naomi's head was too much and she never recovered.

"So how is she today?" Cook asks sitting down next to Emily and taking her hand. Emily's sniffs the tears back and shakes her head. He pulls her to his chest and strokes her hair soothingly. "She knows, okay? She knows."

"She knows." Emily says to herself reassuringly. "And even if she doesn't, I'll sit here and rot with her to tell her again, just one more time." She'll wait for her, she always will.


End file.
